


Stormseeker: Scrolls of Time

by Serriya (Keolah)



Series: Stormseeker Saga: Alternate Timelines [9]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Dimension Travel, Gen, Immortality, POV First Person, Present Tense, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-05
Updated: 2014-07-05
Packaged: 2018-02-07 13:28:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1900659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keolah/pseuds/Serriya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lexen doesn't remember much when he wakes up in that cart on the way to his execution, but it doesn't take him long to figure out that he doesn't die when he's killed like normal people. Just being the Dragonborn and an immortal time traveler doesn't mean he can save the world, however.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stormseeker: Scrolls of Time

I blink slowly, jostled awake by movement. My vision is blurry, and my eyes slowly adjust to the light. My hands are bound in front of me uncomfortably, and three others sit in the back of the cart along with me.

"Finally awake, are you?" says the man across from me, a burly blond fellow. "Trying to cross the border, were you?"

"I don't know," I reply thickly, thinking hard and drawing a blank. "I don't remember anything."

"Amnesia, huh? How hard did they hit you in the head?"

"Well, I remember my name, at least," I say. "I'm Lexen... Lexen... Skywalker?" That sounds about right, I think. I look across me at the blond man and try to see if I can determine his name. Do I remember him as well? Did I know him before? I'm not certain, but a name comes to mind -- no, not to mind, literally floating above his head for a moment. This man is named Ralof.

"You and me, we don't belong here, Lexen," says a different man, the one sitting diagonal to me. I peer at him as well and try to glean his name, and letters appear again. His name is Lokir. "We're not rebels. We were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. I'd stolen a horse, and would have been halfway to Hammerfall by now if they hadn't caught me."

"Hey, I could be," I say with a shrug. "I could have been, for all I know. As it is, I don't even know who is rebelling or why, or against who, never mind which side I was fighting on, if any."

"You sit beside Ulfric Stormcloak, the true king of Skyrim," Ralof says, nodding toward the man sitting to my right, the only one of us who is gagged.

"Jarl Ulfric?" Lokir says, eyes widening as he looks at the gagged man. "The leader of the rebellion? You're the one who murdered the high king and started all this! Oh, Divines, where are they taking us?"

"Why do they have him gagged and not us?" I wonder.

"So that he can't use the power of the Voice against them," Ralof explains.

I open my mouth to ask what he means, when the guard up front interrupts us with, "Quiet down back there."

The cart is trundling into a village, passing through gates to allow us entry into the walled town. Villagers come out to look at the soldiers, children babbling excitedly as they're shuffled off inside. Finally, the cart rolls to a stop, and we're directed off of it and lined up. A hooded man stands by a stone block, with a large axe at the ready.

"Please step forward as I call your name," says a uniformed man, Hadvar. "Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm. Ralof of Riverwood. Lokir of Rorikstead."

At this, Lokir says, "I'm not a rebel! You've got to believe me!"

I sigh, and tell him, "Calm down. Panicking and screaming like a girl isn't going to do anyone any good."

"Wait," Hadvar says, looking at me. "Who are you?"

"Lexen Skywalker," I reply.

"Were you trying to flee some court intrigue in Hammerfall, Breton?" Hadvar looks in confusion to the armored woman beside him. "Captain, what should we do? He's not on the list."

"Forget the list. He goes to the block."

"As you say, Captain," Hadvar says. "Breton, we'll see that your remains are returned to High Rock."

Is that where I'm from? Small reassurance to be going home dead, if so. And yet, for some reason, the prospect of death does not shake me at all. A priestess begins to recite words, but she's interrupted by one of the rebels.

"Let's just get on with this," the man says, and approaches the block and lays his head down. "Come on, I haven't got all day!"

It seems strange to see a man so eager to die. Does he believe that an afterlife of some sort awaits him in which he will receive some eternal reward for his devotion? Or is he just so tired of war that he wants to end it here and now? Either way, I don't understand. I don't understand it at all. The headsman's axe comes down, and the rebel's head drops into a basket.

"Next, the Breton," says the captain.

I'm pushed forward, toward the block, and pressed down against it, still very confused. And yet, not the least bit afraid. Why am I not afraid? I don't understand why anyone else would wish to die, but me? What's different about me?

The axe comes down upon my neck and separates my head from my shoulders.

* * *

I wake in the cart again, blinking. Okay, _that_ would be why I'm not afraid of death. I was confused and disoriented at first, but now I remember. I'm immortal. I'm a time traveler. Whenever I die, I return to the morning of that day. I can do things over again as many times as I need to in order to change events in my favor.

I get the feeling that I'm really going to need to exercise that ability today.

"Awake again, are you?" Ralof says. "They caught you when you were trying to cross the border, I take it?"

I grunt at his question and look to see where we're going, taking a closer look at my surroundings while my fellow prisoners talk amongst themselves. Ralof mentions that this village is called Helgen. I look around for a possibility of escape. The gates are heavy and guarded by armed soldiers. I don't know if I can make it past them, but I need to try it.

When the carts come to a halt, I keep an eye out for an opportunity, the soldiers being distracted even for a moment. They hadn't bound our feet, the fools. As the names are being called off, I turn and make a break for the gate. I don't make more than a few steps before a sharp pain shoots through my side, and then another in my shoulder. I dare to glance down for a moment, and see arrows piercing my body. A third arrow strikes my leg, bringing my flight to an abrupt halt as I stumble to the ground.

* * *

"So you're awake, I see," Ralof comments as I wake up back in the cart.

"They're going to execute us, aren't they," I comment dryly. "How's that for stating the obvious?"

"It seems that way," Ralof says. "But it is my honor to die beside Jarl Ulfric."

I glance over to my side toward the gagged man. I'm not clear on the details on how the Voice works, but if they've gagged him, it must be something that could be used against them somehow. After peering about to make sure no one is watching too close, I lean over as discreetly as possible to try to work the gag off. Although my hands were bound in front of me, they were still done in such a way that I can't easily work my fingers. I give up on that after a minute and try my teeth instead. It takes a bit of effort, but with a sharp tug, I manage to get the gag free of Ulfric's mouth.

"If we must die," I whisper into his ear, "then let us die fighting."

As the carts approach the gates of Helgen, Ulfric stands and _Shouts_ at our guards. Words of power knock the soldiers off their feet, and in alarm, weapons are drawn against us. Standing at Ulfric's side, I'm cut down in moments.

* * *

"You awake there, Breton?" Ralof asks.

I grunt softly, and assess my options. I can't just run because they have archers. Lokir trying to talk them out of it didn't seem to help, either, but perhaps I have a smoother tongue than him. We arrive in Helgen and Hadvar starts calling off our names again. Without me telling him to calm down, Lokir makes a break for it and gets shot down by the Imperial archers.

"Who are you?" Hadvar wonders.

"Lexen Skywalker," I reply. "I believe there has been some mistake. I am no rebel. I am a loyal Imperial citizen. I'm willing to offer whatever proof you might desire." Offering proof when I don't have any. Well, either they will listen and give me a chance to prove myself, or they won't care what proof I may or may not have anyway.

"Captain, what do we do?" Hadvar asks his superior.

"Send him to the block."

Just as I suspected. They don't care. Time for another plan, then. Wait and look for an opportunity. The man before me is too eager to die, and I watch him die again... even as strange sounds echo through the air.

"Next, the Breton!" the captain calls me forward.

Nowhere to run, but there will be another chance to figure this out. I step forward and take my place at the block. The headsman raises his axe... and the blow does not fall. A dragon lands heavily on top of one of the towers, and the entire town seems to shake. The executioner falls to the ground, losing grip of his axe.

"What in Oblivion is that?" cries a voice behind me.

I roll over and jump to my feet. I was hoping for an opportunity to escape, but this was really not what I had in mind. Still, I should be able to slip away in the confusion. The dragon is obviously not on the Empire's side.

"Come on, Breton!" Ralof says. "The gods won't give us another chance!"

I can't help but give a short bark of laughter at that. The gods have apparently given me all the chances I could possibly want. I may not remember much, but I seem to know instinctively that I can come back from death as many times as necessary.

That does not, however, mean that I might succeed at everything I try to do. For instance, while I was momentarily distracted, the dragon's tail slams into me with the crackling of bones and knocks me right off my feet.

* * *

"Awake again, Breton?" Ralof asks.

"No, I'm fast asleep, dreaming like a wee little babe," I reply.

I don't know why a dragon chose to attack Helgen at that moment, but I make a mental note to get well away from it in addition to getting away from the soldiers. Well, all things considered, once the dragon shows up, the soldiers will probably have other things on their mind than trying to stop me from escaping.

Either way, I just need to stall a little bit in order to delay the headsman's axe long enough for the dragon to disrupt things. We pull into Helgen, and once again Hadvar wonders at who I am.

"My name is Lexen Skywalker," I reply. "You haven't heard of me? You don't have me on your list? I'm one of Jarl Ulfric's staunchest supporters! I am his most loyal agent, returned to meet up with him again, and it is my greatest honor to die at his side."

"Right, to the block with you, then," Hadvar says.

As the priestess starts droning on, I look for the fellow who had been eager to die before, and murmur to him, "Just let her talk. Every moment they waste is another moment when things could go wrong for them."

He gives me a look of interest, raising an eyebrow. "You expect something to go wrong for them?"

I don't answer, just giving him a faint smile. Even if the Imperials expect a rebel attack at this point, there's no way they'll expect a fucking _dragon_. Even as the priestess continues her blessings, the earth rumbles and the dragon appears overhead again.

With the Imperials distracted, I make a break for it, and wind up holing up in a tower with Ralof, Ulfric, and a few other rebels.

"Is that really a dragon?" says one of the rebels incredulously. "Could the legends be true?"

"Legends don't burn down villages," Ulfric says.

I snort softly, "No, but the things that the legends are _about_ certainly could."

"Head up through the tower and try to find a way through," Ralof tells me.

I have no idea why he's giving me orders, but it seems as good an idea as any, seeing as there's no other way out of here but the door we came in by. I climb up the stairs. Part of the way up, the building shakes, and the wall caves in before me. The enormous head of a dragon pokes into the gap, opens his mouth, speaks a word, and lets forth a gush of flames directly into my face.

* * *

"Hey, Breton, you awake now?" Ralof asks.

I roll my eyes. "You're an idiot, Ralof."

Ralof looks at me in confusion.

The scene repeats again, and again I'm standing before the block with Hadvar asking me who I am.

"I am Lexenmilot Skywalker Majere Renneck Chelseer, the Stormseeker," I reply, the words coming to mind unbidden as if from some distant memory. "I am the blood of the dragon, born of a galaxy far, far away. Deaths beyond number mark my path, but I bear the hope of a thousand worlds. I shall be your doom and your destiny."

Hadvar stares at me incredulously for a long moment. "What... What do we do, captain? What is he saying?"

"I don't care, he goes to the block."

It's trying my patience, but I let things play out as they did before, and this time I do my best to avoid getting killed by that dragon. Not burnt up, not crushed, not impaled, not eaten, not clawed, nothing. I scramble through the burning village, ducking and dodging flaming, falling parts of buildings and flailing, swiping parts of the dragon. I'm not really paying attention, but Hadvar seems to be following me. Is he just trying to use me to make sure the way is clear?

As I approach the doors to the keep, Ralof darts out of the rubble in front of us. "We're escaping, Hadvar, and you can't stop us!"

"Ralof, glad to see you made it," I say. "How are we going to get out of here?"

"So you're going now, Stormseeker," Hadvar says. "I don't know who or what you are, but I very much hope that you are what you claim to be. For all our sakes."

I smirk at him, and say not a word more as I follow Ralof into the keep. Whatever he thought of what I'd told him, he hadn't even had the courtesy to cut my bonds. Ralof, on the other hand, does so immediately.

"Looks like we're the only ones who made it," Ralof says.

"Or we're the only ones silly enough to run _into_ the keep instead of out of the town," I comment. "I'll reiterate my question."

"We should be able to get out through the dungeons," Ralof says.

"Oh, that's very encouraging," I say, snorting. "Dungeons."

"There should be a tunnel leading out of the keep underneath it somewhere."

"Yeah, because putting a built-in escape route into every dungeon is a brilliant plan," I say. "No matter. Let's try it."

"Better grab Gunjar's gear here," Ralof says, pointing to a corpse. "He won't be needing it anymore."

I grunt softly, and reach down to pick up the axe next to the body. As I bring my arm back, my hand brushes against a pouch attached to my belt. In curiosity, I reach in to find a map and a small book.

"Looks like they left you with some of your possessions, at least," Ralof says.

"I'll have to look at this once we can escape," I murmur, putting them away. "Someone's coming."

The door opens to reveal two Imperials, one of which is that damned captain who kept ordering my death. I don't know her. I don't want to know her. I don't care what her name is. She can just be the Imperial captain for all I care. A surge of rage shoots through me, and I let out a low snarl and swing the axe into her face with all my strength.

"Get you to Oblivion, bitch," I growl, yanking the axe free.

Ralof dispatches the other soldier and grins at me. "Let's get out of here." He goes over to the other door, only to find it locked. "Does one of them have a key that opens this door?"

I go over to search the bodies, and pick up a dagger that I think I'd like to keep. I shove it sheathed into my pouch, thinking it might barely fit, but it slips inside easily and doesn't even make a bulge. Come to think, I can't feel a bulge from the book, either. Raising an eyebrow in curiosity, I try shoving a helmet inside, then boots, then finally an entire suit of armor. Even though the pouch seems pretty small, the mouth stretches to accommodate the larger items, and everything I put inside just seems to vanish into it.

"By Talos, what _is_ that bag?" Ralof wonders.

I pull out a helmet again, to see how easily the items can be retrieved again, and say, "A magic bag, obviously." Seeing no reason to do otherwise, I shove everything the Imperials were carrying that seems even the slightest bit valuable or interesting into the bag. Having found the key, I go over and unlock the door.

Trying to act nonchalant about the whole business, and pretending that I know exactly what this bag is, who I am, and why I'm here, I head down into the dungeons along with Ralof. I pull out the map from my pouch again and take a look at it. It seems to show a detailed map of Helgen, and only shows the areas that I have actually been. Two dots on the map are labeled "Ralof" and "Lexen Chelseer", and they are moving down the corridor alongside one another.

I'm not entirely sure who I am or was, but I seem to have a magic bag and a magic map, and I'm quite curious about the book as well. Where did I get them? Or did I make them myself?

We come upon a torture chamber, and fight through the Imperials inside, after which I proceed to shove everything into my bag. There's a book inside one of the cells, and I thumb through it thoughtfully. It's a spell tome labeled "Sparks".

"Found a spellbook?" Ralof says. "Best shove it in that handy bag of yours. Won't be time for reading right now, never mind practicing a new spell, if that's the way you swing."

I shake my head distantly. This book seems very familiar somehow. I read through it quicker than I would have thought possible, like I'm not reading anything new at all, but merely refreshing my memory. A minute later, I raise my hand, and electricity crackles from my fingertips.

Ralof raises an eyebrow. "Did you already know that spell? There's no way you could have actually read and learned that so fast."

I chuckle softly. "Yeah, I already knew that spell. But a refresher now and then doesn't hurt." I put the book into my bag.

We head on past the dungeons and into a system of caves near Helgen, fight our way past some spiders, and I continue to collect anything that might be useful along the way. Spider eggs, spider venom, weapons, entire sets of armor... I'm trying to avoid dying again. I don't care to go through all this again. But it seems the worst is over for now, though it would not do to get complacent.

"Shh! Wait!" Ralof hisses. "There's a bear up ahead!"

And that would be why. A bear can ruin my day just as easily as a dragon, if I get careless.

"We can probably sneak by her, if we're quiet," Ralof whispers.

I nod, and try to be stealthy as I move past the bear's resting spot. I am not so quiet as I might hope for, however. The bear wakes up and peers about, then looks straight at us. So much for that idea. I raise my hands and let forth a jolt of sparks, and Ralof hacks into the animal's hide with his axe. The bear roars, swipes her claws, and snaps at me with her teeth. One paw catches me on the shoulder, and I go down in pain, bleeding, and thinking in mild annoyance that this will be it, that I'm probably going to have to escape from Helgen again.

Ralof cuts the bear's throat with his axe, finishing her off, then comes over to me. "You alright there, Lexen?"

"Not really," I reply, gritting my teeth.

"You picked up some healing potions along the way," Ralof says. "Try drinking one of those. That should do the trick."

Healing potions? I don't bother to ask aloud, and just poke through my bag with my good arm. I pull out a small bottle of red fluid.

"There you go, that's the stuff," Ralof says. "That should be strong enough to make you good as new."

"Hope so," I mutter, and drink down the liquid. It tastes strange, sweet and smooth, but with an aftertaste I cannot place. After it goes down, the wound on my shoulder almost immediately stops bleeding and begins to close itself rapidly. It doesn't quite heal completely, leaving a rather tender patch of raw skin, but my fears of bleeding to death on the floor of the cave were clearly unfounded.

"All better now," Ralof says.

We head out of the cave and into sunlight again. Overhead, a shriek splits the sky, and we duck for cover as the dragon flies overhead again, away from Helgen. I don't even dare to move until I cannot see any sign of the dragon any longer.

"Hope he's gone for good now," Ralof says.

"Not a chance," I say with a smirk, straightening. "But we're probably good for now. And we've made a clean escape from the Imperials as well."

"Best get moving, though," Ralof says. "They could be crawling all over this area soon enough. Riverwood is just down the road. I have a sister there. We could hole up there for now."

I nod. "Sounds like a plan."

As we head off down the road, I pull out my book from the magic bag and open it up. Judging by the label on the cover, it would appear to be a journal. It's also not written in any language I can immediately identify, and yet I have no trouble reading it at all.

_If you don't know what you are reading, then you have lost your memories again, so read carefully. Your name is Lexenmilot Skywalker Majere Renneck Chelseer Dragonblood. Your title is the Stormseeker. This title was given to you by some pretentious mages who travel to different worlds, and it can uniquely identify you in prophecies. Prophecies are bullshit. They tell what could happen, not what will happen. In the end, it is your own choices that determine the future._

_You are an immortal time traveler. Whenever you die, you return to the last moment when you woke up. Take advantage of that. You can take a nap in order to effectively 'save' your progress, if you are concerned about something difficult that may happen soon, or have just done something that was difficult to pull off. So far, I have never found anything that could actually finish me off for good, but dying in certain ways may force you to jump back further in time or even send you to another world entirely, so beware of any sort of instant death magic or anything that messes with the soul._

_Regardless, enjoy your life, and own your choices. Live and die, love and hate, learn and forget, kill and heal, build and destroy. There are always choices. Embrace your freedom, and never let anyone take it from you._

"What language _is_ that?" Ralof wonders, peering over my shoulder.

I smirk and close the book. "That's a secret." Not that I can even tell him what it is, because I can't remember what it's even called.

"You're a strange man, Lexen," Ralof says. "A mysterious stranger stumbles into an Imperial patrol, and on the brink of being executed for treason, he declares himself the Dragonborn and recites a prophecy, and then a dragon appears just in time to save him. You've got magical items whose like I've never seen before, a book written in a language I don't even recognize, and an aptitude for magic. I don't know what to make of you. Can't say I entirely trust that, either. But like Hadvar said, I hope you are what you claim to be. And that you really are on my side."

"Right now, all I want is to get to Riverwood and sleep," I say.


End file.
